


The Aftermath

by eratothemuse



Series: ThranduilsPerkyButt's 5K Follower Giveaway [1]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 5K Follower Giveaway, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Smut, mentions of the reader getting hurt, not safe for work, request, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: You have a brush with death that frightens Elijah, so he decides to show you just how much he loves and cares for you.





	The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> **Request:** _"You come very close to death and it frightens Elijah when he realizes just how close you were to death, so he makes very passionate, tender love to you to let you know how much he loves and cares about you."_  
>  This is for @chessurkitti, who was one of our 5K Follower Giveaway winners!! I’m sorry it took abnormally long (well, it’s me, so normally long lol) to get it out! I had it halfway written and then all of this school drama popped up that I had to handle before I could finish it. I hope you like it, darling!! Thanks for following!  
> \- Meg <3 xx

In all his years, he had seen few people brush with death and come away unscathed. However, he had witnessed plenty of death; the dark side of the world that seemingly loomed around every turn his family made. 

So how could he not blame himself for this? For dragging you into danger with simply his association. Placing a target on your head all because of his feelings for you. Death had come for you that night, dressed in the form of one of his many enemies, but Elijah had cheated death for centuries, and was not going to let you become collateral damage of that bargain tonight.

When he was finished tearing through your captives, being sure they’d never have the chance to make the same mistake of crossing him again, he was covered in their blood. Yet, when you saw him, you looked at him with relief, not fear.

“Elijah,” expelled the air from your lungs in a single breath, as if you were breathing his name with the relief that flooded through you as he unwound your bindings, taking you into his arms as a similar relief washed through him. He knew how close you’d come to death and the complicated reality of that fact terrified him. “You came for me,” continues from you when you grip the red, bloodstained suit jacket he wore, not deterred from your effort to bring him closer in the least by the mess he’d made.

“Are you alright?” he asks, pulling back from your embrace just to watch you shakily nod your head, your fear still pungent in the air, making him hate this situation even more, “Let’s leave this horrid place. I’ll take you home. 

_Home._ That was just where you wanted to be. Where you’d been wishing to be ever since you’d been stolen from his side. Yet, without the confines of the gated walls of the Mikaelson property, you still felt much more at home than you had in the last few hours, simply because Elijah was there beside you again.

“Okay.”

* * *

His hands had started shaking as he washed them, glancing over his shoulder in the mirror to see you perched on his bed, gripping a pillow to your knees. You had proved to be far more resilient than he, your worries seemingly washing away as you cleaned yourself of the grime that had clung to your clothes once you had returned home. The worry on your brow ebbed away as you fell onto his plush comforter, letting out a delighted hum in the process.

Elijah, however, was consumed. You had come so close to not coming home at all and Elijah couldn’t stop worrying about it, even though the best outcome had played out rather than the worse. But how easy it could have been for the worst to have occurred? Elijah hadn’t witnessed miracles in his centuries of life, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the closest he’d ever come. Seeing you on his bed after having you nearly taken from him entirely was something he didn’t take for granted.

As he cleansed the last bit of blood and dirt from under his fingernails, he decided he needed to show you that.

So he wiped his hands on a nearby hand towel, and passed through the open bathroom door into his bedroom, where you looked up upon his approach, “I’m happy to be home.”

Reaching out, Elijah brushes his hand against your cheek, just to feel you, “So am I.” He bends, and you tilt your head upwards as you realize he means to kiss you. The kiss is gentle, purposeful, and laced with the weight of the events of the night. His worry transfers as he gets rougher, more desperate, making you grip at his shoulders to pull him back, panting.

“It’s okay, Elijah. I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere,” you soothe, feeling his brow furrowed against your own as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Rarely had you seen Elijah as nervous as he was now. As fearful as he had just let you see.

“What if I hadn’t gotten to you in time?” he whispers.

“But you did,” you kiss him again, gently pulling him onto the bed. His knees dip in the mattress, the weight of him compressing the springs as he moves towards you while you lead him into a deeper kiss. One that kept him anchored, levelheaded, yet at the same time scrambled his thoughts of anything other than the fact that he had you in his arms right now.

“You have no idea how terrified I was,” Elijah admits against your lips, leaving for just a moment only to plunge back into the kiss with enhanced fervor, taking the lead as he pulls the pillow on your lap from between you, allowing your legs to part for his body. “The thought of losing you,” he breathes as he kisses down your chin, along your jaw, against your neck, “it scares me beyond comprehension.”

“You don’t have to be scared about that right now,” you swallow thickly, fingers smoothing behind his neck and through the hairs of increasing length until you reach the back of his head, “because I’m fine.” With a chuckle, you arch your back against him, letting your chest brush his, “Actually, I’m better than fine, now.”

His smile breaks against your skin, right above your jugular as black veins splay from his eyes for but a moment as he rocks his hips into yours, pulling you by your waist against him, “I adore you so much, darling.”

Leading him back to your lips gently by his hair, you purr, “Kiss me, Elijah.”

And he does, his lips moving against yours as his fingers find the elastic of the shorts you’d changed into earlier in the evening. Despite it being the middle of fall, New Orleans was still scorching with heat during the day, allowing the nights a pleasant temperature to waft through the open French doors that looked out onto the courtyard of the Mikaelson home via a wrought iron-railed balcony. Because of this, you didn’t shiver when he removed them, or when he pulled your shirt over your head moments later.

The dress pants he wore still carried the stains of the fight, blood marred against the thighs as you stripped him, before letting the fabric collect in a discarded heap off the side of the bed. Once they were gone, there was no evidence of the night that had transpired, aside from the feelings that it had brewed inside of the both of you.

If you were to say you hadn’t been afraid, you would be lying. Of course you had been. You still were. The implications of what had happened and how it was related to your relationship with the Mikaelsons and, in particular, Elijah were all too obvious. But you weren’t about to let this come between you and him or how much you loved him, and judging by how he let his hands slip beneath the hem of your panties, neither was he.

You were both desperate to forget what had happened. Desperate to get lost in each other. Each desperate to show the other that what had happened wouldn’t effect you. Wanting to show that you’d won tonight.

“Elijah,” his name comes from you in a low moan as he squeezes your rear before tugging your underwear all the way off. Reaching for his own, the last bits of fabric that had once clung to your bodies were off in nearly an instant, thrown haphazardly away as if you were personally offended by their presence.

Elijah smooths his hands over your knees, pulling you against him and letting your bare skin feel the heat of his body. The anticipatory whimper you let out makes him smile as he makes his way closer to the apex of your thighs, trailing a teasing finger along your folds and feeling the wetness already present there. Dipping down, his mouth moves along your chest, kissing and licking and causing you to wriggle in his grasp as he simultaneously palms against your clit, stirring you up.

Lingering at a nipple, he tortures you. Teasing with his fingers and tongue, you hardly can keep your hips from bucking into his hand the more he rubs against you. Curling your calves around his body, you urge him closer, feeling the hardness of his length against the skin of your inner thigh.

“I want you,” you urge, getting a hum of agreement around your nipple before he finally quits beating around the bush of this foreplay. You repeat in a needy whine, “I  _need_  you, Elijah.”

“You can have me,” he murmurs, positioning his hips against yours. You reach for him, taking his cock gently and sliding it against your slit, causing a moan to rumble in his chest. He grips your hips, just above where your thighs ended, to slowly push into you.

Your hips rise involuntarily, wishing to be closer to him as he fills you. When he bottoms out, the both of your breathing is labored, but he manages to stay himself long enough for you to nod and, with another moan, push your hips against his in encouragement.

Elijah hovers over you as he starts his rhythm, knees and feet driven into the mattress for leverage as his elbow presses into the sheets beside your waist, his hand gripped around the back of your shoulder as he kisses up your chest. His other hand grips your knee to wind your leg around his hips, guiding you in time with the pace he’s set.

Your head falls back into the comforter as he picks up his thrusts, causing your hips to stutter against his own as you try to keep up, enjoying the ebb and flow of his tempo as he urges you closer to the edge of completion. One of your hands abandons his hair to weave between your bodies and curl your fingers at your clit, doing your best to ride out the pressure that was building in your abdomen.

“(Y/N),” Elijah moans against your neck, his breath fanning below your ear where some of your hair sticks to the skin there. Turning your head down towards his forces him to pull back just slightly, allowing you to kiss him once again.

Though gentle, this kiss was needy, rimmed with lust as you tried your best to devour each other the nearer your undoings approached with every slap of skin against skin and throb of your inner muscles along his cock. He swallows your moans as you fall over the edge, back arching into him as you all at once try to get closer and as far away as possible, the feeling of your orgasm almost overwhelming in the newfound heat of the room.

The erratic constriction of your body against his has him following you close behind, his thrusts becoming equally as uncontrollable the closer he gets in a desperate attempt to fulfill his own climax. You feel him when he does, his strangled gasp breaking himself from the kiss to pant against your cheek as his fingers grip your body almost painfully before he regains a sense of his own strength, leaving a dull ache under the skin.

Holding him to you is the only thing you want to do for a long while after that, or maybe it was only for a few seconds. Your brain, scrambled in the aftermath, hardly cared for the concept of time as the tingle slowly left your body long before he did.

When he finally does roll to the side, careful to not hurt you, you reach for the sheets, bringing them to cover the both of you before snuggling contentedly back into his side, assuring him, “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
